


oh my days, we rollin'

by thewarriorkingofwakanda (SoloChaos)



Series: there's gonna be trouble [1]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Black Panther (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ants, Gen, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Rare Pairings, Snapshots, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/thewarriorkingofwakanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of Scott and T'Challa: Idiots in Love.</p><p>Sam doesn't have time for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh my days, we rollin'

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much a bunch of snapshots worldbuilding a series I want to write.
> 
> In other news, I'm in rare pair hell. Seriously, what is this. I thought it would be pure crack, but now I have, like, actual feelings about this.
> 
> Title from "Left Hand Free" by alt-J.

_2016_

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are you called Ant-Man, anyways?” Sam says. “You don’t even look like an ant.” 

 

“Oh, it’s because I can talk to ants!” Scott says brightly.

 

“What,” Sam says.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Scott talks to ants a lot.

 

It gets old fast.

 

Okay, he technically doesn’t  _talk_  to ants. He communicates with them using a bluetooth thing that influences them to do stuff and whatever, Sam doesn’t care.

 

(“It works on ants because each ant is kind of like a single cell of one autonomous organism, y’know?” Scott says. “That’s why the tech can’t be modified for humans. At least, not yet. And that’s fine; I don’t want to communicate with humans. Not like this, I mean.”

 

“Okay,” Sam says. He hadn’t asked.)

 

No one really gives Scott a time of day when it comes to the ant thing. It’s not that it’s boring, exactly; it’s just that Scott is way too earnest for any normal human to handle. 

 

Except King T’Challa, somehow. The King of Wakanda actually seems legitimately interested in everything Scott has to say, ants and all.

 

Privately, Sam chalks it up to the power of boners.

 

He’s watching TV one day when Scott walks in and flops down on the couch. He grabs the remote and changes the channel, which,  _rude._  Sam opens his mouth, about to tell him off when T’Challa enters the room. Sam shuts his mouth, because T’Challa is the ruler of one of the wealthiest countries in the world, and calling someone a “fuckass” in the presence of the said man seems like it might be in poor taste.

 

It’s a documentary on ants, because of course it is, and Sam crosses his arms over his chest and sulks.

 

“These are argentine ants,” Scott says, pointing at the TV. “Argentine ants have a super wide distribution. A single colony can span continents!” 

 

“That is fascinating,” King T’Challa says, looking genuinely sincere.

 

Scott’s practically vibrating with delight, elated that someone’s actually showing interest in his ant babble. “I’m not so familiar with the ants here,” he admits. “I’m hoping to run into some driver ants, though. Driver ants travel in packs and have been known to kill animals as big as cows. They could kill me!” he adds happily.

 

The king seems utterly charmed. “I will have a colony imported for you to study,” T'Challa tells Scott, and Scott actually blushes, what the hell. Are they flirting with ants. Is the king of Wakanda wooing someone with ants.

 

Sam leaves, having given up on watching TV. It seems rude to tell your host to get a room. Especially when you’re an international fugitive and your host is the ruler of a nation that’s granted you asylum.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Scott and T’Challa are dating,” Bucky says.

 

“Duh,” Sam says. He furrows his eyebrows. “Does Scott know that?” 

 

Bucky frowns. “No, I don’t think so,” he says.

 

“Oh.” A pause. “Should we tell him?” 

 

“Hm,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “Probably.” 

 

“Tic-Tac!” Sam shouts.

 

Scott pokes his head into the room. “Yeah?” he says. He’s eating a sandwich.

 

“You and T’Challa are dating,” Bucky says.

 

“You have no tact,” Sam tells Bucky.

 

“Like you would’ve done anything different,” Bucky snorts.

 

“Wait, what?” Scott asks. “I… I’m dating… what?” 

 

“T’Challa,” Sam says. 

 

Scott’s eyes are wide. “This makes so much sense,” he breathes.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice,” Bucky says.

 

“I’ve seen him kiss you,” Sam adds.

 

“I thought… maybe it was… a Wakandan greeting…” Scott trails off.

 

“That’s racist,” Bucky says. 

 

“No, I think that’s xenophobic,” Sam says. “Or ethnocentric? Something like that.” 

 

“Oh my god,” Scott says. “I gotta… ah… oh, hell.” He dashes off, dropping his sandwich.

 

“Rude,” Bucky mumbles. “I just vacuumed.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I know that we have not known each other for long,” T’Challa says, “but I knew that from the moment we met– formally, that is– we were meant to be together. I have never truly believed in fate; at least, not until I met you.” He’s getting down on one knee, holy shit.

 

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers, and Sam shushes him.

 

“Why are you kneeling?” Scott asks.

 

“Scott Edward Harris Lang,” T’Challa says, “would you do me the honor of becoming my lawfully wedded husband?”

 

Steve chokes on his coffee.

 

“Huh,” Scott says, looking contemplative. “I guess that would make Cassie a princess. Y’know, that’s been her goal since she was two.” 

 

Sam closes his eyes. Next to him, he can hear Bucky burying his face in his hands.

 

“…Ah,” T’Challa says.

 

“Wait,” Scott says, and doesn’t continue.

 

After about a minute of silence, Sam hesitantly opens his eyes. Scott is frozen, a dumbfounded look on his face. T’Challa is still kneeling, looking increasingly more uncomfortable.

 

“Scott?” T’Challa finally says.

 

“You want  _me_  to  _marry_  you?” Scott blurts.

 

“I… yes,” T’Challa says. “I thought… Please know that your asylum here is in no way contingent on you marrying me. If– if you do not wish to marry me, that is… fine.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?” Scott asks.

 

“Do– do you want me to answer?” T’Challa says hesitantly.

 

“You’re kind and smart and funny and honest and gorgeous and respectful and  _way_  out of my league, dude,” Scott says, looking bewildered. “Like, way, way,  _way_  out of my league, I mean, what. Of course I want to marry you, just. Why would you want to marry me? I’ve been to jail, like,  _multiple_  times. My ex-wife says I’m irresponsible and a bad role model. Oh, I have an ex-wife. And a daughter. In most countries, I’m a wanted criminal! The only reason I became Ant-Man was because I broke into the right house at the right time! I’m allergic to shellfish! That’s not important, I don’t know why I said–”

 

T’Challa surges forward, cupping Scott’s face with his hands and kissing him.

 

“That’s the best way anyone’s ever shut me up,” Scott says dreamily.

 

“You stupid, wonderful man,” T’Challa says, taking Scott’s hands in his own. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Is that so inconceivable?” 

 

“I’m really annoying,” Scott says very seriously. “I even annoy myself sometimes.”

 

“Amen,” Bucky says, and Steve elbows him in the ribs. Neither Scott nor T’Challa seem to notice.

 

“We once spent two weeks in Taipei together,” T’Challa says. “Neither of us left our hotel room the entire time. If I had not found 336 continuous hours of you annoying, Scott, I doubt I ever will ever find you annoying.” 

 

“To be fair, my mouth was usually too busy doing other things during those two weeks,” Scott says, and T’Challa, the unflappable king of Wakanda, actually blushes. Like, a bright red, head-to-toe blush. It’s great.

 

“So,” T’Challa says, shifting, “is that a yes? Or a no?” 

 

“Of course it’s a yes, you idiot!” Scott says, throwing himself into T’Challa’s arms. T’Challa, wholly unprepared to have a wild Scott Lang jumping at him, is knocked over, Scott landing on top of him.

 

Sam buries his face in his hands.

 

“So, did we miss anything?” Clint says as he and Wanda stroll in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t do this,” Scott says, rocking back and forth nervously.  _“Fuck,_  Sam, I can’t do it.” 

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sam says.

 

“Look at him,” Scott hisses, jerking his head in T’Challa’s direction. “He is so fucking beautiful,  _look_  at him,  _I_  can’t marry him, what the fuck.” 

 

T’Challa’s wearing a white robe, or a  _kanzu,_  as Sam heard him call it. He looks like he usually does: calm, cool, and collected, but at second glance, Sam can tell that he’s nervous, wiping sweating palms on his robe.

 

“Look, Tic-Tac,” Sam says, grabbing Scott’s shoulders. “I did not let you beat me up just so you could back out of marrying an African King who, for some reason, loves you very much.” 

 

Scott blinks.  _“Let_  me beat you up?” 

 

“Look, Cassie’s coming,” Sam says, pointing as Scott’s daughter comes running towards them. “She’s been so excited to be a flower girl, man; don’t take that away from her.” 

 

“She was a flower girl at Maggie and Jim’s wedding,” Scott grumbles, but he brightens when Cassie takes a running leap into his arms.

 

“Daddy, Baba says that weddings in Wakanda last a whole week!” she says happily.

 

“Yeah, Peanut, they do!” Scott says, shifting Cassie onto his hip. “Careful, you don’t want to wrinkle your dress.”

 

Cassie ignores him. “Aneka says she’ll teach me how to dance,” she chirps. “Did anyone teach you how to dance, Daddy?” 

 

“T’Challa taught me a little,” Scott says.

 

“Aneka says that Baba isn’t a very good dancer,” Cassie tells him.

 

“Well, then he and I will be bad dancers together,” Scott says.

 

Cassie nods, finding this acceptable, before squirming out of Scott’s arms and running back into the crowd.

 

“You ready, Tic-Tac?” Sam asks, and Scott takes a deep breath before nodding.

 

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Yeah, let’s do this.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of notes explaining a lot of things that I referenced in this fic. They're in the series notes!


End file.
